


Assignment

by biqua



Series: Measurements [1]
Category: Star Wars Legends: The Old Republic
Genre: Gen, It's all troopers, so many troopers
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-03-28
Updated: 2018-03-28
Packaged: 2019-03-26 06:03:24
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,259
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13851618
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/biqua/pseuds/biqua
Summary: The Treaty of Coruscant has been signed, but SpecForce has only just begun. Led by the success of Havoc Squad, the Republic has created a training academy for potential SpecForce recruits. Taroth Emras is a part of that first class of recruits, having enlisted just before the Sacking of Coruscant. Now, three years later, he's been assigned to his first team--OR 186, who will one day be known as Blackbirds. Unknown to the seven of them, their legacy will reshape the course of the Republic's most elite. But for now, Taroth is simply a street kid trying to keep himself alive.





	Assignment

**Author's Note:**

> This is the real first piece of _Measurements_ , being the first part of _The Measure of Success_. That's not to say I won't write some things that take place earlier in the timeline, but they'll probably be self-indulgent oneshots.
> 
>  _Success_ is a miniseries of the original Blackbirds' missions, but I decided to separate the missions out into their own fics so I can post them in whatever order I write stuff in. Writing chronologically has never been my strong suit... But I'm at least starting with the first part. So there's that.

Dammit, Taroth was _not_ going to be late for his first real assignment.

Of course, the Corellia hangers seemed to be built like a maze. 8, 9, 10, suddenly he had missed a turn and was at 33. When he was looking for 21. _Taroth Emras, report to Hanger 21 at 1300 for your assignment_. That’s what the paper said, and that’s damn well what he was going to do.

He had already figured he would be the last to arrive, so he tried very hard not to run into the room, as he arrived one singular minute before 1300. So he wasn’t surprised to see there were already six other people there.

One shot him a brief grin—Soen Carthers, a friend from the Academy. They had been in and out of classes together for the first year, less so once Carthers started his sniping specialty and Taroth started the ‘electronic warfare’ classes. Fancy name for slicing. Better tools and backend than he’d had growing up, but nowhere near the pressure. Taroth hadn’t seen Carthers as much in the past two years, but they still hung in some of the same circles.

There was one other new graduate he recognized. Handsome, tall, dark-skinned, and rarely a smile. The somewhat infamous Casanova, who had dated and dumped three girls in as many weeks when they first arrived at the Academy for training. He seemed to recognize Taroth as well—infamy was a rich word, after all, coming from Hack.

The others weren’t familiar—a woman in medic’s armor, a man with the lanky stance of a pilot, a woman in minimal black armor who almost screamed “covert ops,” and a man with a cane, looking them all over carefully.

“I see we’re all here,” the man with the cane said. His voice was gruff. He was Zabrak, several scars crossing his face and neck; he had clearly seen action. Taroth thought it was safe to assume this was Captain Broit, the man he was supposed to report to.

“I am Captain Broit,” he said, which confirmed that assumption nicely. “Callsign Rematch. Starting today, I am your final authority. While I may not be joining you on the field,” he said bitterly, “I will be in command of the ship and its mission. That includes you.”

Taroth thought he had the Captain pegged pretty well already. Veteran, injured, determined to get back in the fight but thwarted by injury. Admirable, but time would tell if he was more help than hindrance.

“I am Lieutenant Thrata Siajule,” the woman in dark armor said, taking a step forward. “I will be your CO on the field. When were are planetside, you listen to me. When we’re anywhere else, you listen to me, and I listen to the Captain. Understood?”

Taroth nodded slowly. The Lieutenant was much harder to read. She was human, and her hair was pulled back in a tight, short ponytail. Her eyes were fierce, but she had handed over her final authority to the Captain with no hesitation. Was there history between the two of them? And interestingly, she hadn’t mentioned her callsign at all.

“As of today, the seven of us are Outer Rim 186,” the Captain continued, picking back up from where the Lieutenant left off. “Our directive is to keep stability in the Outer Rim and preserve Republic interests when necessary. By whatever means necessary. That is why the five of you were chosen. Your skills lend themselves to quiet operations, and you have shown the temperament required of a covert team.”

Taroth tried very hard not to laugh, and succeeded. He really wondered what his pysch eval had said about him. Or about the other two graduates, for that matter. Carthers was a chatterbox, and Casanova was quiet and serious, but quite clearly attracted attention. Taroth wondered just how deep the eval had gotten, if it was able to start picking up the skills he had learned to stay alive in the slums of Alderaan.

“Which is the start for introductions,” the Captain said. He turned first to the lanky man.

The man gave an extremely casual two-finger salute. “Jaycyn Lita. Quicksilver. Specialist, but I don’t really give a damn about the rank. Pilot’s all that matters.” He was Mirialan, with enough tattoos to indicate he wasn’t a novice. His mouth wasn’t smiling, but his green eyes were.

The medical officer was next. “Specialist Tiene Rives, callsign Stitches. I’ll be the medical officer.” She was straightforward. Also human, like the XO and all three of the graduates. Her hair was dyed blonde, but cut short in tight curls. Her eyes made it clear that she would tolerate no nonsense.

Taroth had the feeling he and Carthers were going to push her limits on that.

Taroth, who had walked up to the middle of the group, was next. “Private Taroth Emras,” he said. “Callsign Hack.” A suppressed laugh from Carthers, and Taroth saw Casanova smirking. “I’m primarily electronic warfare, hand-to-hand if something goes wrong,” he added, smiling.

Carthers gave a little wave. “Private Soen Carthers, callsign Chips. I’ll be your sniper this evening.” He was still smiling, as he often was. Carthers was a cheerful man by nature, not a man wearing a mask of cheer. Taroth had seen him get serious during training, but the smile fit much more naturally on his face.

“Private Badri Ravjanday,” Casanova said. He stood stiffly and added, “Callsign Casanova.” He seemed reluctant to admit it—clearly, he didn’t appreciate that the nickname had stuck. “Infiltration and assessment.”

Taroth hadn’t known his specialization. It wasn’t what he expected—Casanova was tall, although skinny, like he had only just stopped growing, and didn’t fit the mold of a covert agent. But he was reticent, and stood with a stiffness that suggested he was procedural or nervous, or both.

Captain Broit nodded. “There will be time to get to know each other on our way out. It’s a long way to the Outer Rim. We’ll be warming up on Tatooine—there’s a pirate outpost there we’ve been ordered to clear.”

“Move out,” the Lieutenant added.

Lita was the first to move, as if he had been waiting for his chance to enter the ship. Taroth walked after him, curious to see what they had been given.

It was nice, that was for sure. Although then again, after the poor beaten-up _Everett Lucia_ , his meter might be a little skewed. His sister’s ship had been an actual junk pile when she first bought it. It was much better now, but Bee’s style was… minimalistic. Industrial. She did not leave a lot of room for aesthetics in her design, nor did she have the parts to spare. This ship looked much more comfortable.

“What’s her name?” Taroth asked, leaning over to Lita.

“The _Shadowed Blackbird_ ,” he replied fondly. “She’s a stealth ship. Top of the line. I’ve been watching her line’s development for years—all unofficial leaks, of course, but to see the real thing…” He flashed a grin at Taroth. “Hack, right? You ready to see what she can do?”

“I expect quality from you, Lita,” Broit drawled. His mouth didn’t smile, but his eyes said everything. The Captain was itching to see what the ship could do, too.

“Yes, sir,” Lita said, with another lazy salute and huge grin. He clapped Taroth on the back. “I would find a seat, if I were you. I hear the pickup on this model is obscene.”

Taroth smiled back. He could get used to this.


End file.
